Tell No One
by 67impalalover
Summary: The Winchesters meet two hunters, Mary and Lucy, but soon discover they may be relatives of Alastair. Just when they think their day can't get any worse, a girl from Dean's past reveals he has a son...the problem is that this girl is a demon.


**Disclaimer: Yes. They are mine, all mine! Pfft, no. I do not own Supernatural, Sam, Dean, or Bobby…But I do own Lucy and Mary…**

**A/N: Repost of Every Rose Has It's Thorn. So, this was the first story I had posted, but due to the fact that I hate my writing style from 3 years ago, I'm reposting and thoroughly editing it. Let me know what you think, reviews and constructive criticism are pie and roses.**

**Tell No One**

Chapter 1:

"Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap! Dirty deeds, Done dirt cheap! Dirty deeds, done dirt cheap! Dirty deeds and they're done dirt cheap!" Dean belted out the lyrics, nodding his head as they drove through the darkness. "Come on Sammy, you know the words."

"Uh, I think I'll pass. How far until Detroit?"

"Only another 80 miles. We should be there by sunrise."

Sam sighed in response.

"What's wrong? It's not like you should be tired…"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not blind, I saw you drooling on the window. Dude, you've been asleep for the last six hours!"

"Dean, just because I'm looking out the window and _not_ singing to every song on the radio, doesn't mean I'm sleeping." Sam retaliated.

"You're right. Maybe it doesn't." Dean smirked, "By the way, you left some drool on the window."

Sam shifted his attention to the slobber-coated glass and wiped it dry with his sleeve. Dean's laughter echoed loudly in the cramped space.

"Hey, that's not funny. Jerk."

"Bitch."

The Impala slowed, turning sharply into the Bluebird Motel. The sun began to light up the sky, sparks of pink and gold dancing off of the damp road. Stepping into the coffee scented office, a short woman in her early forties greeted the brothers' in a chipper tone. "Good morning, how can I help you?"

"Morning," Dean started, resting his elbows on the scratched desk as he pulled out a credit card. "Can I get a room with two queens?"

"Sure thing. Number twenty-six." The woman handed Dean a key then winked seductively.

"Thanks." Dean gave the woman a smile as he slid it into his jacket pocket.

The door creaked open, revealing a small, crowded room. The walls inside were painted a dark blue, colourful paintings in a disarrayed pattern contrasted the otherwise gloomy appearance inside. In between two queen sized beds sat a small desk with chipped paint and a lamp displaying aged, torn shades.

Dean over looked the room, shook his head, then plopped down onto one of the beds. "Yes!" He exclaimed, his eyes traveling down to the 'magic fingers' controls along the bedside. "Got any quarters, Sammy?"

"Pfft." Sam ignored Dean's question, laying down on his own bed and pulling the covers up to his chin.

"Sam? Dude? Fine then, be that way, grumpy. I'll just get change tomorrow."

Dean pushed himself to the middle of his bed, glancing towards Sam and then to the side of his bed where the magic fingers waited. "I'll see _you_ tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah." Sam replied, not noticing his brother had been talking to the machine.

"Right." Dean mumbled sarcastically before slowly drifting off to sleep.

Lightning lit up the blank backdrop of his mind, faces and figures slowly taking shape. One face stood out, white eyes peering through the crowd as light bounced off of the razor he twirled between his fingers. Alastair smiled deviously, drawing a line of red along Dean's chest. "Let's begin, shall we?"

"Dean? Dean!" Sam shouted desperately, watching Dean jump up from his bed. "You okay?" His voice was plagued with worry, concern plastered onto his face.

"I'm fine. Just a dream." Dean wiped a sheet of sweat from his forehead, avoiding his brother's gaze.

"You were having another nightmare, weren't you?" He paused, contemplating whether or not he should continue. "Do you want to talk about it? It might help you."

"Help me? Sam, talking about it isn't going to help me, forgetting about it is. Besides, I already told you the basics, there really isn't anything else to say."

Sam's expression was hard to read, a mixture of sadness, guilt, and disappointment lined his features.

"I'm fine Sam." Dean stood up and felt for his jacket, sliding it over his shoulders. "Gonna go get breakfast, want anything?"

"No, I'm alright."

"Kay, I'll be back in a bit." Dean stopped in the door way, trying to lighten up the mood before leaving. "Don't have too much fun on that Busty Asian Beauties site, there _are _real people beyond your computer, you know."

Sam glared at his older brother in response.

"Okay, okay. I'm going." He lifted his hands in surrender, pulling the door shut behind himself.

Sam huffed, staring across the room at the cat shaped clock and flipping open his phone once more. _Nothing_. Gone for six hours, no phone call, no text. He began to dial his brother's number, his thumb hovering over the call button when the door swung open.

"Hey." Dean greeted in a monotonous voice, throwing his jacket onto the bed.

"Dean, you've been gone for almost six hours, what took you so long?"

"I was doing some research. A couple days ago this girl named Teresa had her house robbed."

"So?"

"Well, she saw the guy..." Dean frowned.

"_So_?" Sam repeated.

"She said the Easter bunny robbed her house."

"The Easter bunny?" Sam rolled his eyes. "Dean! You can't _honestly_ believe that, right? She's obviously crazy."

"That's what I thought, too. But then I talked to her neighbour and she said she saw the robber too."

"Huh. Found something else." He bit his lip, "Pretty weird, too."

"Weirder than bunny the robber?" Dean looked at his brother in disbelief.

"Way weirder. Last night Ron Tossely goes to close up at Wal-Mart and he, uh…" Sam let his voice trail off.

"And what?" Dean probed his brother for more information.

"He was attacked. By the Barbie section."

Dean laughed. "Right."

"Cops are still investigating the case but the guy's too shaken up to say much more than he already has. The Barbies beat the crap out of him." Sam looked at his brother's amused face then continued, "Security cameras caught the whole thing on tape. And Dean? The tape wasn't tampered with."

Dean's eyebrows furled in confusion. "That definitely tops the Easter bunny. You _do_ know what we're dealing with, right?"

"Got to be a trickster. Nothing else could do that."

"Exactly. So now we need to find the bugger and gank him."

Sam looked at Dean nervously, biting down on his lip.

"What's wrong? Afraid he's gonna send the Barbies after you?"

"No." He sighed once more, "I just don't think we should mess with the trickster."

"What? Sam -"

"What?" Sam challenged his brother's protests. "Remember what happened last time? Besides, he's not killing anyone, and it _is _kind of funny."

"Fine, I'll go after him myself if you're too scared."

"Dean, I'm _not_- ."

"No, it's fine. I'll go myself." He opened the door, ready to leave.

"Go where? You don't even know where he is."

"I have a few ideas. Be back later."

"Dean!" Sam shouted after his brother as the door slammed.

"Hey!" Sam rushed to the door, opening it in time to see his brother speed away. _He's going to get himself killed! _He thought to himself, running back into the motel room, dialling two on his speed dial: Dean. If he found out that Ruby had replaced his number one spot, he'd be dead meat. Again.

Sam let the phone ring until it reached his brother's voicemail. He slammed the phone shut. "Damn it Dean!" He shouted into the thin air, rushing back out of the small motel room and dialling the first number on his speed dial. Barely ringing once, a voice spoke up from the other end of the line.

"Hey Ruby, do you think you can help me track Dean?"

He kept the phone pressed against his ear as he fumbled through his pockets, keeping an eye on a rusting car at the other end of the parking lot. Casually, he glanced over his shoulder before kneeling down by the locked door.

Screeching tires grabbed the attention of a few passer-by's as the rumbling car took off down the street.

Dean crept his way up the metal stairs, flashlight in one hand and a broken tree branch in the other. He glanced back once to check to area, noticing a 1972 Challenger parked in the trees. It was the color of fire with two white stripes on either side, and in mint condition. _At least the guy's got good taste_, he thought to himself.

Graffiti soaked boards covered the windows, the panels of wood that had at one time supported the building were scattered casually across the grass. The door groaned as it opened, and to avoid extra noise, he forced himself through the small entrance, pulling it partially shut after him.

Inside of the warehouse were piles of burnt wood, garbage littering the dusty ground. By the looks of it, people had been camping out inside not too long ago.

A shadow shot across a pile of boxes, Dean's knuckles turning white around the stake-like tree branch. He tip-toed across the floor, catching sight of a man about his age.

He bolted into the next room, knocking over a pile of boxes in front of Dean. Climbing over them, he rushed around the corner, stopping stupefied in the middle of the room, the trickster out of sight.

Sam pulled up beside the warehouse, not realizing his brother's Impala was parked around the opposite side of the building. Breaking a branch from a dead tree, he began to circle the building in search of a door, soon noticing a red muscle car, not fifty feet away from his brother's 'baby'.

His footsteps turned to a rapid pace when he heard the sounds of fighting from inside the beaten down building.

_Yeah, this guy is pretty damn creative. First the Easter bunny, then Barbies, and now I'm being attacked by an army of Arnold Schwarzenegger's? _Men took turns charging Dean as he reached for his gun which was closely tucked to his side. One shot was all it took to send a Schwarzenegger temporarily to the ground but they recuperated fast and he was outnumbered one to fifteen_. _"This will end well."

Dean swore and spun around, trying to fight the rabid beasts off of him, but after a bad hit to the head he dropped his gun and fell to the ground. An awkward fall had Dean dazed and when he came to, a gun barrel was looking him in the eyes. He blinked once then gritted his teeth in anticipation, looked up once more, and nothing. The men had all faded away.

Dean surveyed the area quickly then saw someone standing in the corner by a limp body on the ground. A girl in her twenties pulled a stake out of the trickster's chest, sweeping long blonde hair out of her face, and looked up at Dean. She glanced over to her side as another woman appeared, looking to be close to Ellen's age with a light shade of brown cascading around her face.

"Lucy are you okay? What are you…?" Her train of thought cut off as she followed the younger woman's gaze down to Dean. They both looked back and forth between the body of the trickster and Dean. Dean turned his head upon hearing thumping coming from behind him.

"Dean! Are you okay? What happened?" Sam's voice was frantic, it echoed eerily around the room. "Who are they?" He mumbled, looking between the two.

"We were about to ask you the same question ," The older woman interrupted.

"My name is Dean, and this is my brother Sam." He pulled himself off the ground and gestured toward Sam. "And you?"

"Kid, we're the ones that just saved your butt. You really shouldn't be playing around here, you could have gotten hurt. Leave stuff like this to professionals."

"Professionals?" Dean snorted. "Lady, we're as close to professionals as it gets." He paused, looking at the two women's faces. "Wait, you're hunters?" Dean stared at them curiously.

"What do you know about hunting?" The women looked back and forth between one another confused. "One second. Sam and Dean…" Her frown deepened, "No. It can't be. Sam and Dean _Winchester?_"

They exchanged glances. "Yeah, that's us."

"Well I'll be damned. My name is Mary, and this is my daughter Lucy. Also hunters."


End file.
